


our heads could do with filling with some interesting stuff

by tossrien



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter, Female Bilbo, Gen, Hogwarts, baby first years, fem!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tossrien/pseuds/tossrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellflower Baggins starts her first year at Hogwarts alongside one Thorin, son of Thrain. Things do not begin smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our heads could do with filling with some interesting stuff

"What sort of a name is Bellflower, anyway?" scoffs Thorin, the larger of the two boys, despite the other appearing to be older than he. "Bellflower sounds like a plant's name, not a witch's."

Bell puts her hands on her hips. "I'll have you know that the girls in my family are always named after flowers. There's nothing wrong with that. What sort of a name is Thorin?" she counters, mimicking his exceedingly rude tone.

"It's the name of a king," Thorin huffs. "An ancient king of the dwarrows."

"So ancient that I've never heard it before," Bell retorts. There aren't dwarrows anymore, just as there are no hobbits, no elves, and no orcs. It's been millennia since the old wars, and now there are only people, or so Bell has always been taught. Just wizards and witches, and no one better than anyone else. Prejudices don't do anyone any good. Honestly, everyone's all so interbred, even the elves, that it hardly matters anymore. "It's not exactly fair of you to mock my family's traditions, when I said nothing about yours."

"It's not just tradition," Thorin says hotly. "It's blood and memory. You wouldn't understand-"

"Thorin," the older boy says sternly. His hair is plaited neatly back from his face in a conservative style, falling to just past his shoulders in a thick, mouse-brown mass. His eyes, however, are golden brown, bright and sharp. He's already wearing his robes, the deep blue of his hood marking him as a Ravenclaw.

He holds out a hand to Bell. "Balin Fundinson, at your service. This is my cousin Thorin. He's also a first-year."

Bell takes it, surprised when he gently grips her wrist instead of her hand. Supposing that it must be something dwarrowish, she grips his wrist firmly in return. "I'm Bellflower Baggins, but Bell is fine. Ah, at your service, as well."

"We're glad to make your acquaintance," Balin says kindly, releasing her. After a pause, during which Thorin says nothing, Balin elbows him in the side, and he grunts, sticking his hand out in her direction, as well.

"Thorin Oakenshield, at your service," he mutters, scowling. Bell arches a brow at him, trying to be as haughty about it as her grandmother Took always is, and reaches out to grip his wrist. He's not as gentle with his grip as Balin had been, and Bell returns his tight clasp as best she can.

"At yours and your family's," she says, trying to be as exceedingly polite as possible, since she, at least, has class.

Thorin glares at her, and she stares haughtily back. They're so busy with their posturing that they don't notice Balin's amusement, which isn't even very well hidden.

"I presume you know about the Sorting," he says, interrupting their dueling stares.

Bell swallows, smiling nervously. "Yes, of course. My family is typically in Hufflepuff, although my mother was a Gryffindor, and they surface sporadically in her line."

Balin rubs his sleeve over the Ravenclaw badge on his robes. "Yes, I was an oddity. Our kin are nearly always in Gryffindor, though it'll just be myself and Thorin for a year or two."

"Oh, I've at least four cousins at school right now," Bell says, nodding. "Tooks, Brandybucks and Bagginses."

"Oh, do you mean Saradoc?" Balin says, smiling. "We're well-acquainted. I faced him on the Quidditch pitch last term."

Perking up at the prospect of discussing acquaintances, not to mention Quidditch, Bell brightens. The conversation goes easily after that, at least between herself and Balin, and if Thorin is silent next to the window, choosing to keep out of the conversation, Bell is sure she doesn't care. It's not as though he's a particularly cheerful conversation partner.

She goes to change into her school robes as it gets dark, and when she returns, Thorin is changed as well, straightening his tie. They follow Balin off the train when it stops, and find themselves pulled along with the flow of students moving briskly down the platform in the chilly evening air. She'd've been lost among so many others so much taller than she is, but there's an annoyed sigh from just behind her shoulder, and a hand grasps her robes firmly, tugging her along. She trails after Thorin, debating kicking him in the shins. She is not a piece of luggage, and as they reach the docks, now just a group of first years making their way to the boats as directed by the enormous man with the lantern, she opens her mouth to tell him so, just in time to be dragged down into one of the wooden boats.

And then, then she's forgotten about yelling at anyone at all.

The castle rises above the lake, enormous and magnificent, its windows all ablaze with golden light. In something of a shocked daze, they all make their way up the long stairs at the base of the cliff, all the way up to the huge wooden doors.

Waiting for them inside, at the top of a short set of stairs, is a familar sight. Gandalf LeGrey, Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, smiles down at them, and she doesn’t miss the twinkle in his eye and the wink he sends her, though he addresses the whole passel of them when he speaks.

"Good evening, first years," he says. "I am Professor LeGrey. Welcome to Hogwarts. Follow me into the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into your houses."

No one says a word, but follow her meekly through the doors.

The Great Hall is immense, its ceiling so high that it's not even visible through the clouds and starts amongst the rafters, its upper reaches enchanted to appear like the sky outside. There are hundreds of students sitting at the long tables, and Bell wants to shrink down into her robes a bit, although their many stares and whispers are nothing compared to the head table at the front of the hall, a small stool sitting alone on the dais.

And there, sitting in the golden chair at the center of the table, is the most beautiful women Bell has ever seen. Her robes are long and silky; it's impossible to tell whether they're gold or silver or blue or purple or green, or possibly some strange combination of them all, and her hair is a waterfall of gold that falls down past the small of her back. She's slender, with bright blue eyes and a pleased smile as she looks them over.

Gandalf steps up to the stool and appears to pull a ragged hat out of his sleeve, setting it down. He begins to call their names, and the hat shouts out their houses once it’s placed onto their heads.

"Baggins, Bellflower," is the fourth name called, and she takes a deep breath, stepping up onto the dais and onto the stool. Gandalf lowers the hat onto her head, and she almost yelps when the voice speaks in her mind.

"Ah, hm... well, you're an easy one, aren't you?” Am I really? she asks, not quite sure. The hat seems to laugh quietly in her head. “Of course you are. There’s no doubt of it, you belong in GRYFFINDOR!” The last is bellowed for the entire hall to hear, and Bell grins widely as the hat is lifted from her head, hurrying over to the table filled with red-hooded students, which has burst into cheers. Her shoulder is patted and her hand is shaken by a number of people, and she sits, turning to watch the rest of the Sorting.

The students are slowly Sorted to the four tables, and when the crowd has started to dwindle, Gandalf calls Thorin's name.

"Thrainson, Thorin," she calls, and he steps up, looking entirely unafraid as the old wizard sets the hat down onto his head. It's barely touched it when it cries out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

He looks relieved and pleased, smiling as he goes down to take his place across the table from Bell. He looks much less sour when he's smiling, and she can't help but return it with one of her own when he looks over at her, his cheeks flushed. After a pause, he stands slightly and offers his hand again, still smiling. She stands and takes it, shaking firmly.

 

 


End file.
